A throne of shadows and a hall of stone,
She rules a world, yet she stands alone.
A crown made of glass and a heart made of steel,
Hiding the scars that she refuses to feel.
The whispers of treason, the weight of the gold,
A story of fire that has never been told.
She traded her tears for a scepter of might,
And learned how to dance in the dead of the night.
They see the empress, the cold, steady gaze,
But not the young girl lost in the maze.
Betrayal has sharpened the edge of her blade,
In the garden of power where the ghosts have all played.
She'll break every shackle and conquer the sky,
With a fire in her spirit that refuses to die.
For a Sovereign's diary is written in red,
With the strength of the living and the ghosts of the dead.